


Winchesters Don't Giggle

by rizlowwritessortof



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Smut, dean drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 15:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13216872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rizlowwritessortof/pseuds/rizlowwritessortof
Summary: My friend and I were having this discussion about giving Dean a back rub, and whether he might be ticklish… and this drabble sort of happened… Written for my friend, Liz - not new, but missed posting it here for some reason...





	Winchesters Don't Giggle

“Ohhhhhhh…..” Dean groans, loud, crawling slowly up the length of the mattress before collapsing on his face. “Everything hurts.”

You rub the sleep from your eyes as you sit up, reaching for his shoulder. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“Shapeshifter kicked my ass. Like Danny Glover says in Lethal Weapon, I’m gettin’ too old for this shit.”

You crawl out from beneath the covers, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “I’m sorry, baby.” You pull gently on his button-down, sliding it down his arms and tossing it to the floor. “Here, let’s get your shirt off, I’ll rub your back.”

He moans again, whether at the thought of a massage or just moving enough to remove his t-shirt, you’re not sure. You go to the bathroom cabinet and grab some baby oil, then climb back onto the bed, carefully straddling him and sitting down on his upper thighs.

“Just close your eyes and relax,” you say softly, and he shifts a little beneath you, settling in. You pour a little oil in your hands and rub them together, warming everything before touching him, and he lets out a long sigh as you run your hands lightly over his shoulders, then down until you reach his waist, distributing the oil over his smooth, tanned skin, admiring the light sprinkling of freckles dusted over his body. You move back up to his neck, rubbing a little harder now, dragging your fingertips down his neck and across the curve of his shoulders, smiling at the little noises he’s making, not bothering to try and hide his pleasure.

“Baby, that feels like heaven,” he mumbles into the pillow, and you smile.

“Yeah, it does,” you agree, leaning over to kiss his neck as you continue to knead his sore muscles. He twitches a little, and you sit back up straight, concerned. “Are you injured? Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this. Do we need to take you for x-rays…”

“No! Stop worrying.” He stops you in mid rant, raising his head off the pillow. “It was just – your hair…”

You can’t stop your smile from widening. “Dean Winchester! You’re ticklish?”

“No!” He starts to raise up again, but you push against the middle of his back until he surrenders again.

“Yes, you are. It’s adorable,” you tease, going back to kneading your fingers into the plentiful muscle across his glorious back. “It’s just nice to know there’s a little chink in that armor of yours. Might come in handy.”

“I’m not really. Just once in a while, if I’m really relaxed. I can control it.”

You hum, still smiling. “I see.” He moans softly as you hit a particularly sore spot, and you stop teasing for a moment, focusing on giving him relief. What you really want to do is start kissing over the muscular expanse in front of you until you’ve tasted every inch of his exposed skin. “Did you know you have the sexiest back I have ever seen?” You say quietly, and he moans again as you work out another knot between his shoulder blades.

“Oh, yeah? How about my front?”

You laugh softly. “Oh, your front is definitely the sexiest.” You’ve worked your way down to his waist, massaging just above the top of his jeans, and he moans again, thrusting a little against the mattress.

You grin to yourself, then run the very tips of your nails down the length of his back, barely touching him, and you’re rewarded with a very un-Dean-like giggle. “Y/N, knock it off or you’ll regret it,” he warns, and you laugh softly as you go back to rubbing his back.

“But I want to hear you giggle some more,” you pout, and he raises his head again, a very grumpy frown on his face.

“I don’t giggle.”

“Oh.” You’re still smiling, and you wait until he settles back down with a sigh, smoothing your palms over him, reveling in the feel of his muscular back beneath your hands. You don’t get to spend that much time just looking at him, and you’re enjoying it immensely, marveling at how perfectly formed he is. He’d snort and roll his eyes at you if you said it, but it’s true, and touching him like this is frankly starting to rev your engine. But you’re still feeling a little mischievous, so you run your fingers over him again like the first time, barely touching him, sending a wave of goosebumps over his skin as he giggles again, then swears, rolling over smoothly and trapping you in his arms.

“Oh, you’re in trouble now,” he growls, then moves with catlike grace, pinning you on your back, straddling you with your wrists captured in one large hand. “Let’s just see how ticklish you are,” he says, his eyes narrowed, and you start to shake your head desperately.

“No, please, I’ll be good, I promise,” you beg, but he’ll have none of it. He wants revenge, and soon you are laughing beneath his attack on your belly, your ribs, behind your knees, writhing and struggling for breath as your laughter fills the room. “Stop!” you finally manage to shout, and he does, his face flushed with triumph as he grins down at you. You stare up at him, panting for air, and his beautiful smile fades slowly, the sparkle in his eyes becoming warm, and your breath catches in your chest as his tongue darts out over his lips.

He bends to kiss you, letting go of your wrists as he slips his other hand beneath your t-shirt, moaning softly as he brushes over your nipple. You melt into each other as he slants his mouth across yours, tongues brushing against each other, your hands gripping his biceps as you arch your back, aching for him to touch every inch of you.

He stops just long enough to pull your shirt over your head, then buries his face between your breasts, kissing and nibbling at you as you struggle to think straight. “Dean… Baby, you’re hurt, and exhausted, and…” a whimper forces its way from your mouth, interrupting you for a moment. “You should let me take care of you.”

His green eyes shine as he raises his head, his lips curved in that panty-melting smirk that you love so much. “Oh, you’re doing a damn fine job of taking care of me, sweetheart,” he says, his voice rough with arousal, “Exactly what I needed.” Then he dips down again, taking the hard nub of your nipple between his teeth, tugging gently, then sucking it into the heat of his mouth. A low chuckle rumbles in his chest at the wanton sounds he’s coaxing from you, and he sits up again, tugging at your sleep pants and panties. As soon as they’re down far enough, he’s slipping a hand between your thighs, his eyes closing as he groans in approval. “Now this… This definitely feels like heaven,” he growls, and just the sound of his voice sends a shiver through you. “Baby… I’m sorry… I can’t wait to be inside you…” he says, his lip between his teeth as he jerks his zipper down and shoves his jeans and boxers as far down his thighs as he can manage. He works your clothing down until you can pull one foot free, then hooks an arm behind your knee and guides himself into you, a soft curse leaving his lips as you welcome him, wet and hot and quivering.

“Dean…” you gasp as he begins to move, but he muffles the rest with his lips on yours, kissing you voraciously as he pistons smoothly in and out. He reaches between you to rub your clit between his fingers, and you whimper helplessly into your kiss before white-hot ecstasy washes through you, taking your breath away and shaking you to your foundation. Dean grunts as you grip around him, and after a few more hard strokes, he’s exploding within you, just as you begin to come down, shuddering hard before your body begins to relax, melting into the warm afterglow as Dean lowers himself gently, his lips nuzzling at your neck.

“Damn, it’s good to be home,” he murmurs against your skin, and you find the strength to raise your arms and hold him close, letting the fingers of one hand wander through his hair, the other caressing the smooth muscle of his back and shoulder.

“I missed you,” you answer softly, and you lay in each others’ arms, silent for a while. Then you feel a smile teasing at the corners of your mouth, and you can’t resist. “And you’re so cute when you giggle.”

“Winchesters don’t giggle,” he grumps, nipping at your neck, then immediately soothing it with his tongue.

“Whatever you say, Dean.”


End file.
